A Sermon by Fr. Davenport, 19 January 2003.
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Solemnity of Saint Agnes

Song of Solomon, 2:10-13
2 Corinthians, 10:17-11:2
Matthew, 25:1-13


In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

There was a time when the Church was very powerful. It was during that period when the early Christians rejoiced when they were deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the Church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. (1)

Those are the words of Martin Luther King, who we honour with a national holiday tomorrow. King wrote them in his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." In the spring of 1963, King was in Birmingham organising protests against segregation and was thrown in jail a few days before Easter. Eight prominent clergymen, including the leaders of the Episcopalian, Roman, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Baptist churches, had appealed for restraint and discouraged people from supporting King's demonstrations. The public largely heeded the appeal.

The day before Low Sunday, King was released from jail, but prospects for continuing the protests were dim. The story goes that soon thereafter at a large church meeting, King asked who would be willing to demonstrate with him and to follow him back to jail. The only people in the crowd to stand up were children. King thanked them and told them to sit back down. He felt that he could not ask them to go to jail, that they were too young. But King prayed about it and talked to friends and changed his mind. His decision caused great controversy. On May 2nd, a thousand children, teenagers, and college students left the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church and began to march through downtown Birmingham. Bull Conner arrested them and put them in jail. The next day even more children showed up for the march. This time Conner dispersed the children with fire hoses and attack dogs as well as arresting a couple thousand of them. But the protests continued, escalating in violence, until May 10th when the Mayor and local businesses agreed to end segregation in Birmingham. The Children's Crusade was a watershed moment in the civil rights struggle, perhaps, as some say, the turning point.

Was King wrong to allow those children to be injured and even to risk death? He had to have believed that the children understood their behaviour and that they were responsible for their decision to march against Bull Conner's dogs and night sticks. "King clearly understood the power of witness of the deed, and he believed the cause was sacred, and he went forward. He was convinced that spiritual age is not chronological age, and that great deeds could be done prior to the 'age of consent.'" (2) The weak and vulnerable standing up and accepting violence and brutality is a powerful witness. A dramatic showing of good against evil changes hearts and minds. It happened in Birmingham in the 1960s in a way not all that dissimilar to the way early Christians witnessed to the gospel centuries before. The Birmingham children may not have been witnessing to the gospel strictly, but they were certainly witnessing to human dignity. Courageous good being mowed down by brutal evil is the cross. It stirs people; it draws people; it converts people. The Birmingham youth may not be Christian martyrs, but their story is not wholly different than the story of thirteen year old S. Agnes, who remained steadfast standing up for the faith despite the cruelty of civil authorities.

The story of resolute Agnes standing up to evil is also the story of a much more recent martyr. Sixteen year old Cassie Bernall was a student at Columbine High School. With a gun muzzle to her head, her murderer asked, "Do you believe in God?" Cassie did not deny her faith. Rather, she witnessed to the faith. Martyr comes from the Greek word for 'witness.' Cassie's mother says that Cassie would not have wanted to be called a martyr; she simply "stood up for what she believed." (3) Standing up for noble beliefs is an assertion of human dignity. We admire that, but each of us have to confess to thinking: "Why did she tell the truth? Her deranged murderer may not have taken her life, and God would surely have forgiven her." We are a utilitarian people who have a hard time comprehending the value of a conviction expressed by a death. We wonder, "Can a death really be exemplary? (4) How can a teenager make life and death decisions?" We may admire the martyrs, but we probably fear their examples even more than we admire them.

Cassie's instinctive courage, visible in that one horrible moment, does witness to us. Her death, like Agnes', may have won converts for the Church. But what may be an equally powerful witness is the grow of Cassie's faith. Her 'yes' was forged in her through suffering and through years of growth in faith, a gradual ripening. Cassie at the time of her death was a changed person; a couple of years before she likely would not have made her confession. She had been a troubled, miserable girl, confused and angry, and it wasn't just failing grades and truancy. She was excessively fascinated with death and violence; she fantasized about murdering her parents and teachers; she mutilated herself; and, she worshipped Satan. But through the grace of God, she got herself together. Her life changed. She moved from death and nihilism to embrace "a tough-minded spiritual life." (5) She was maturing in the faith. That transformation is the mission of the Church, and it witnesses to the truth and power of the gospel. On November 8, 1903, the congregation of S. Agnes Chapel held their first services to proclaim and to live in that truth and that power. Today we still offer truth, purpose, life.

Cassie's 'yes' at gunpoint is the expression of her transformation. Her decision, like Agnes' decision, to refuse to deny God is a mighty act, a witness that shows people the reality and the sustenance of our faith. It is the evangelism of sacrifice. Sacrifice converts. Sacrifice builds the Church. And God calls not only the martyr to sacrifice. Each of us also needs to sacrifice for the faith. Even during the centuries of Roman persecution, relatively few Christians lost their lives for the faith. The Church grew not only on account of the witness and sacrifice of the martyrs, but on account of the witness and sacrifice of typical Christians like you and me. Christians do not seek death, and we do not seek to escape the world and our fellow human beings. Rather, we are called to live with one another in harmony, to minister to one another, to sacrifice for one another. God asks very few of us to die for the gospel, but he does want us to sacrifice our lives for the gospel, to take risks for one another, to work for the greater good of all. God wants us to make the gospel visible, and that often makes us uncomfortable, that even may make us suffer a bit. As we remember Agnes, and Cassie, and the children marchers of Birmingham, we pray that we may be as brave as they were.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.


1. Martin Luther King, 'Letter from Birmingham Jail,' 16 April 1963.

2. Jean Bethke Elshtain, 'Heartland of Darkness,' The New Republic Online, Issue Date: 01.17.00.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.


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© 2003 Lane John Davenport